Masamuk had traveled across many Lands in his long existence, and he had seen many sights!
He floated beside Tiaret in the high air, his obsidian body drifting on currents of Mana. The stellar blue points scattered across his form pulsed harder than usual, responding to the density of what surrounded them. Beside him, Tiaret's golden hair lifted.
The Threshold Lands were gone as they were nearing an area that really should not exist.
Where stone and dry earth should have stretched in every direction, a paradise now reached toward every horizon. Crimson-leafed Acacia in groves that swayed without breeze. Golden Baobab clusters rising like the bones of something ancient. Blue-stemmed grasslands running across miles, and seven enormous pillars that the delegation's mind kept wanting to call trees but whose height made the word inadequate!
Behind him, the rest of the delegation had stopped moving.
